


Then and Now

by imincognitobtch



Series: Then and Now [1]
Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Bombing, Comedy later on I promise, F/M, Friendship, Hearbroken Rhys, Jack is a jackass but he's lovable, Jealousy, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Slow Burn, Vaughn-Rhys BFF moments give me life, angsty af, he tries so hard to seem like he dont care but he do, some gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:00:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5328371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imincognitobtch/pseuds/imincognitobtch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rhys is made victim to a bombing attack at one of the Hyperion facilities in Pandora, Jack is quick to rescue him. As everyone had expected, the hero always comes to save the day. </p><p>But Jack deciding to throw Rhys out of his life? That, no one expected. </p><p> </p><p>OR Rhys is Jack's PA and lover and nearly dies when he's sent down to evaluate a Hyperion facility in Pandora. After saving him, Jack pushes him away because he's scared of losing someone again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Quick note, at the beginning Rhys had his ECHOeye implant a long time ago, but he didn't lose his arm until the accident.

When Rhys awoke, his body was a war zone.

Engulfed in darkness and the stench of plaster and cement, his eyes rapidly searched his surroundings. 

His vision flashed as he remembered talking to one of the Hyperion engineers, recalled with heinous clarity how her face had twisted into horror when the first bomb struck the ceiling above them--how the ground had erupted in violent tremors and swallowed him whole.

Now, as he struggled to think, Rhys felt as though his throat were brimming with ash, and he choked on it, nearly drowning in air.

But that didn't seem to matter. Nothing seemed to matter as fire seared through his chest from the beam laying shattered across his right shoulder. For a while, the white hot pain was his whole world. Rhys only knew the agony of his crushed arm rendered to pieces under the weight of an entire building.

Then it was gone.

Then his body was leaving him, his pain was leaving him--and he was plunged into icy water. His breath quickened to short, rapid bursts, and he began to shake uncontrollably, realizing somewhere in his mind that he had gone into shock, recalled it somewhere that this happened to that guy in HR who was shot in the arm 'cause he annoyed Jack too much or something, but as the fear rippled through him, he forgot his name, forgot to even _think_ \--

Static buzzed through his ears, and the familiar echo of Jack's voice resonated in his head.

"Rhys!" He heard as his eyes slowly began to close, "Rhys, where the _fuck_ are you? We're trying to salvage through the debris, but this damn facility is too fucking big." Jack's breathing was labored from exertion, or maybe he was just imagining it, but was Jack crying? He frowned at that, slightly concerned, "Please baby, we need _something_  to find you."

Rhys almost slipped back into nothingness when he was jolted awake by Jack's furious bellow, "He's not _fucking_ dead! If you open your mouth again Axton, I'll fucking shoot you where you stand.  _Find._ _Him._ "  

In a final, feeble effort, Rhys opened his left eye despite his whole body screaming at him to sleep. But he ignored its insistence as he felt the gears whirl in his head, his ECHOeye activating to sprinkle his surroundings in a dim blue light.

His mind strained, begging him to stop, but Jack's frantic voice filled his ears. The blue light began to blink as his coordinates were downloaded into the net, pinged to Jack, and Rhys soldiered on bravely, hoping he could remain conscious long enough to deliver the message fully--

And then, he slipped away.  

* * *

The second time Rhys awoke, his vision was bathed in white. 

Wincing as the light stung his eyes, he tried to shift his body, unable to see. He felt covers around him, and the softness of the pillow beneath his head. A bed?

Struck with confusion, he closed his eyes again and inhaled the smell of chemicals, letting the sterile air permeate his nose. There was a murmur of whispering around him, too quiet to be discerned, but it was there, and it was oddly comforting. He sensed the strange bustle of movement and the constant beeping of a heart monitor. 

A stranger's voice groaned, but when the sound rumbled in his throat, he realized it was his own. He opened his eyes again blinking away the brightness. 

And slowly, as the flash of blindness cleared, he found several pairs of tired eyes trained to his face, and he watched in confusion as all of them widened simultaneously.

"Rhys!"

It was Vaughn he realized, suddenly at his side, looking as though he were about to dive towards the bed. And for a moment, Rhys thought that he would, but he blinked as a hand stopped Vaughn before the other managed three steps. Yvette's. 

"Stop--he's wounded." 

"But he's finally awake!"

Yvette looked at him severely, and the shorter man nearly folded in on himself. Her mouth began to open with a reprimand, but her response was drowned out by: "How could you be so  _fucking_ stupid?"

It was Sasha's voice from his other side, and Rhys felt his eyes slowly move to look towards her face, stricken with fury. She had leapt up from her seat on a pale couch and was advancing towards his bed with conviction, "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Sash, it wasn't his fault..."

"Look at him! He doesn't even know what's going on--"

Damn right he didn't. He stared at her as her eyes glared down at him, looking as though not even her sister could stop her rampage. 

"What's--"

"We thought we lost you!" Sasha continued over his voice, tone sharp and cutting. She ignored Fiona calling out to her, somewhere from the room, but her own words were struggling to come out as shook with rage.

"Sasha." Fiona started, but the other wouldn't listen. 

"How-how could you do something so stupid--?"

August appeared at the girl's side, interrupting her words abruptly, and bringing a strong arm around her quaking shoulders. She shrugged it off angrily, and growled, drawing only a sigh from him, "He's tired, Sasha. Let's go sit back down." 

Some of Sasha's anger dissolved into grief at his words, but her fists were still balled at her sides, "We thought you weren't going to wake up..." 

Rhys looked away as she stubbornly refused to respond to her boyfriend's words, but moved back when her sister was suddenly pulling her roughly with a biting remark that he didn't hear. Sasha slump down onto the couch, her sister and boyfriend beside her as she looked ready to explode.

Seeing her like this was unbearable.

So instead, he found himself looking up towards Vaughn to soothe his confusion.

"Rhys, are you okay?" His friend questioned worriedly with a soft voice, brows knitting together, "You've been out for nearly a week now... we were starting to lose hope back there, man."

" _What?_  I've been--" He stopped the moment he saw the look on Vaughn's face. 

Instead, Rhys smiled reassuringly up at him.

"I'm fine, bro. It'll be okay, I promise," Rhys assured with as much confidence as he could muster, before reaching up his right hand to wipe away the tears that began to drip on the other's cheek.

Only he couldn't.

He couldn't move his arm. 

For a moment he lay there in bewilderment, wondering if he had been strapped down for extra precautions, but the frightened tone in Vaughn's voice jarred him, "Rhys, about your right arm--it's--your arm is--"

He couldn't hear the rest of Vaughn's sentence.

He looked down towards his right and found the gaping mouth of his shoulder bundled up in bandages. 

Suddenly he was in pain, and his mind erupted with visions of that dark coffin, of the plaster, the cement _._ The chilling water was back, he was shaking now, eyes blown open, throat closing around the ash in his mouth.

"Call the doctors!" He heard Yvette's frenzied cry over the rapid blare of his heart monitor, "We need a medical staff now!"

Jack, Rhys thought. 

_Jack._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, we get to meet Jack in this chapter. And yes, I am an atrocious person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually did quite a bit of research on what losing an arm feelings like (for example, the effects of it on your balance, and so on) to help me write this. 
> 
> Oh, and I also should have thought to postpone this fic until the holidays, because exams are next week, and all I want to do is sit down and write. Oh well, I'm going to hell anyway.

A mass of people rushed into the room, and Rhys had felt several pairs of arms hold him down as he struggled violently in mute terror. He threw his limbs about wildly to wave away the grasping fingers, and somewhere in the depths of his panic, he felt the slight pinprick of pain against his neck.

The last thing he remembered was a large familiar hand that comfortingly grasped the back of his head in soothing caresses, and he slipped back into a dreamless sleep with "It's alright now cupcake, it's alright now" resonating in his ears.

That was roughly forty-seven hours ago.

Now, Rhys sat awake at his hospital bed, wordlessly staring at the wall opposite him. His friends had visited earlier again today to greet him with more hugs and flowers, and he had smiled at them unconvincingly as the memory of his panic attack returned. They left him after a while, bidding him farewell with a train of kisses and kind words.

He was alone now.

The light of the digital clock on his bed-side table signaled that it was around midnight, but the room still glowed with light as though it were daytime. Rhys would never admit to his friends that this was a pleading request to the hospital staff not to shut off the lights, but he merely waved off their worried comments and blamed the faulty Hyperion systems for the constant brightness. He'd do anything not to be back in that darkness.

All he appreciated right now was the time alone. It gave him room to think and reorganize his tumultuous thoughts. Of course, his dreams were plagued with visions of the bombing, but what surfaced above all of it was the voice that always seemed to rescue him as his mind receded back into nothingness.

"Shh," Jack had said soothingly over his fearful face, countless hours before. When the needle of the injection had left his neck, he let the drowsiness overtake him, "Everything's going to be fine now. Get some sleep cupcake." And Rhys had trusted these words wholeheartedly. 

And now, after the panic incident, the CEO was nowhere to be seen.

Rhys didn't quite know what to expect when he was brought back to the moon base a few days ago. His friends had told him that Jack and his team had carried him back from the wreckage and hurried him to Helios to revitalize his slowing heart beat. But then where was Jack? He'd honestly expected the other to have remained at his side until he awoke. 

But Jack didn't come. 

Instead, Rhys dreamed several times that he saw fragmented visions of heterochromatic eyes gazing at him as he slept, but when he would wake up, he'd only find Vaughn and Fiona lain asleep next to his hospital bed, and August and Sasha camped out at the couch.

Of course, he tried to rationalize the situation. Jack was the CEO of Hyperion. Leisure time rarely came to him, and he probably expended a lot of men trying to rescue the crumbling facility down at Pandora. Damage control was what Jack had often called it. Picking up after little shits that caused more trouble than they were worth. Yes, Rhys was sure that was it. He was Jack's PA after all, and he understood the constricting schedule that a leader's job entailed. Still, he couldn't deny that he missed the other terribly.

But when the fifth day in the hospital rolled around, he was beginning to have second thoughts. 

Perhaps it was only Rhys's imagination, but Jack's absence was almost unnerving. 

"There is a special program with prosthetic arms in this division," said one of the doctors, checking off things on the clipboard as she routinely monitored Rhys's condition. Rhys had been conversing idly with Vaughn when he heard this, and he turned towards the woman in confusion, "It's your choice whether you want to have one constructed, but we've helped a lot of people with this program. We saved this soldier named Wilhelm once through cybernetic implants, and he's been living comfortably for nearly three years now."

Rhys looked towards Vaughn, unsure. The other shrugged.

Clearing her throat, the doctor pulled out a thick manila folder from her coat pocket, and handed it to Rhys. Taking it clumsily in his left hand, he juggled it open on his lap and found it filled with pictures. 

"Oh my god," Vaughn said in awe, taking one of the pictures from Rhys's lap, "Hyperion tech is freaking incredible."

Rhys had to agree. The photos were different prosthetic designs, and prototypes. They even had labels visible, listing the functions and capabilities and the--oh. Okay, holy hell that's expensive. 

" _Yo,_ look at this one! It's shaped like a space shuttle!" His friend held up one of the pictures for both Rhys and the doctor to see, and he stopped in confusion when the other two looked extremely embarrassed. 

"Dude that's not a..."

"These prosthetics come with the base functions of a normal human arm," the doctor continued quickly, face slightly red, "But of course, there are accessories and perks that may be added. For example, some programmers in the R&D section have cybernetic implants with additional ECHO-interfaces." She pushed forward one of the photos towards Rhys, depicting a blue menu glowing from a prosthetic palm, "It's actually quite fortunate that you already have an ECHOeye implant--it saves us the trouble of setting up."

The designs  _did_ look amazing, Rhys had to admit. And it was definitely hard coping with a missing limb. He found it strange having to adjust his balance all the time now. But it wasn't because his right side felt lighter--in fact, it felt heavier from the swelling of the wounded flesh and Rhys often found himself leaning towards the other side in order to counter act the misdistribution of weight. 

Still.

"That's very kind of you," said Rhys slowly after a short pause, "But this whole... situation has been a bit overwhelming for me. I want to give this whole thing a shot, but I need to know what I'm dealing with first." 

"Right, so you want to know how much it will cost, you mean."

Rhys shrugged, "Exactly."

The doctor hesitated before saying, "Well, I'm going to be honest with you. The initial surgery of creating a shoulder socket will probably cost you $350,000--including time for recuperation of course. And the arm itself would be $790,000, without added features."

"Oh. That's um--" 

"Overpriced?" Vaughn continued, looking skeptical. 

"It's your choice," she replied, looking quite affronted at Vaughn's comment. "Either way, the cheapest prosthetic goes down to only $640,000 at the very least." 

"Great," Rhys mumbled. 

"I beg your pardon?"

The young man waved a hand and quickly said, "Nothing, nothing. I just need time to think about it if that's alright with you. I'll let you know before our next check-up."

She raised a brow at him as she gathered her clipboard, "Right. Sure, just buzz me in as always. I'll leave the photos with you in case you want to choose between designs." She turned and walked out the door. 

"Are you seriously thinking about getting one?" Vaughn questioned when they where finally alone, riffling through the images.

Rhys sighed as he sat back on his pillow, "Why? Shouldn't I try? I kinda don't want to be an invalid, you know. It's going to be hard to keep my job performance up if I'm a cripple."

His friend wiggled his eyebrows, "I could always _lend a hand_." Rhys didn't laugh, and Vaughn's face immediately fell in realization. "Shit, I'm sorry. It was too soon." 

" _You're fucking a dick_." 

Despite his initial reluctance, Vaughn had later on somehow won back his affection by pulling out his Retro Atlasio--hidden from sight lest any Hyperion employee caught wind of Atlas tech on Helios--and indulging Rhys in a very mature game of tetris. 

"You know I hate this game," he grumbled after a while, pressing numerous buttons anyway.

"Yeah but I also know you hate losing even more," Vaughn countered petulantly, only to raise one fist up in victory as the screen marked yet another win, "Yes! 5-0 wins in a row Rhys. Your Atlas themed socks are  _mine_." 

Rhys never really understood Vaughn's obsession with Atlas, but he figured snarling menacingly at his friend and sticking his tongue out would suffice a response. 

As day waned into night, and his friend left to catch up on sleep, Rhys looked towards the stack of photos that he had neatly placed on his bedside table and wondered if the cost of having an arm was worth it. Surgery probably hurt like bitch, and he didn't even want to think about what his current hospital bills added up to. Still though, he wasn't going to lie. Being Jack's PA for the past three years had filled up his bank account and upgraded his life style, yet the price was daunting regardless. 

But if being Jack's longest standing PA taught Rhys anything, it was adapting to all situations was an essential skill. Even situations like these.

What he couldn't handle though was the small changes in his friends' behavior after losing his arm. When he would stand to go to the bathroom, at least one person would rush to help him up or open the door for him. And when he would reach for something to his right using his left hand, someone would scramble up and hand it to him. 

This dependence was beginning to slowly eat away at his dignity, and though he knew that none of his friends would admit it, they regarded him with pity and sadness. It was as though he were a child again, needing others to take care of him and wipe his ass.

Losing his arm was bad enough, but his self-respect?

Shaking his head, he pulled the hospital blanket to his chin, and closed his eyes. 

* * *

Rhys's face wrinkled in annoyance as he felt the blinking light of his alarm clock flickering brightly at him. He cracked an eye open, and was surprised that he was submerged in darkness, his only source of light coming from somewhere behind him.

The digital clock read 2:31 AM, and he felt the sudden fear bubble up in his throat, cursing the  _idiot_ hospital staff who forgot his request of keeping the lights on at all times. 

He was about to reach over and buzz someone in just to prove a point, but froze when he saw that the column of dim light was flooding from an open doorway. Namely, his room's doorway. And Jack's tall figure stood at the entrance, staring at him. 

Rhys's initial reaction was to wriggle himself out of the tangled covers, and leap into Jack's arms. But as he stood up and rushed forward to greet the other, the look on Jack's face had him pausing. 

Jack was masked in shadow as the light from the hall way glared behind him. And with the minimal visibility, he saw Jack's features tight with unknown emotion, his gaze hardened and his stance tensed. 

Somehow, he found his voice, "Jack?"

The other didn't answer, but instead moved forward, bringing up his hand swiftly.

For a moment Rhys thought he was about to get punched in the face, but Jack was suddenly thrusting out a stacked document to Rhys's chest. It read:  _Eviction Notice Rhys L_. _Address: Apartment 69, Residential Sector-100._

"Wh-what?" Rhys said, voice faltering as he saw this, "What the hell is this, Jack?" 

"That's Handsome Jack to you, sweetheart." Rhys nearly flinched when he finally heard the other's voice, severe and devoid of the comforting quality he had had learned to associate with Jack. Not even the stupid nickname sounded right anymore.

And though it should have made him concerned, he instead found himself enveloped in anger.

"You're kidding me, right? This is... this is the stupidest fucking prank you've ever pulled on me Jack!" The younger man hurled the papers to the ground and advanced forward, looking for any sign of Jack's jesting nature, any sign that he was throwing some sick joke.

But instead of opening his arms and allowing the hard frown to fall away and reveal a big, taunting smile, Jack's face twisted into a scowl, and Rhys was caught in surprise as he felt the front of his hospital robes tugged forward in a balled fist.

"What," Jack said so quietly it was almost a whisper, "did I just kindly tell you to call me, you little shit?"  

This wasn't a joke, Rhys realized belatedly as his whole body became petrified with fear. This was something way worse. 

Something wasn't right.

"What's going on? Just--what's happening right now? Why are you like this?" 

The other regarded him with harsh gaze for several moments, before he was roughly flung back, nearly toppling him backwards off his feet. Jack moved away from him to bend down and pick up the eviction notice.

"You really want to know, Rhysie?" Jack wasn't even looking at him, "You really want to know what the fuck I've been thinking for the past few days while you were sitting here, laughing with your stupid nerd unit?" 

Rhys didn't answer, remaining where Jack left him as he clutched his hand towards his chest, eyes never leaving the other man's face.

"This was never supposed to fucking happen," the CEO continued, "The plan was to evaluate the god damn facility and get you back here safe and sound. But you know what I realized after you nearly kicked the bucket and choked on your own spit? You," Jack said, punctuating every word, "are a liability." 

Suddenly, the other was straightening up and approaching Rhys again, but all he wanted to do was to disappear and forget the way his heart was being torn apart like his own god damn arm. Felt that same searing fire and agony, but only _ten times worse_. He wanted to go back to the Jack that he understood. The Jack that would stretch out like a big cat on the bed and hog all the blankets. The one that bought Rhys strange coloured socks when he was upset. Never had he been on the receiving end of the man's violence, and seeing a stranger's face on  _his_  Jack nearly shattered him.

Jack was in front of him now, eyes unforgiving and almost cruel, "I don't want to care about another shit-stain again. You know what I learned after my daughter's death?" Jack never talked about Angel. He wouldn't even allow her name to be mentioned on the space station, "I learned that losing someone is probably one of the shittiest fucking things someone can go through. And I'm not about to let you do that to me." 

Before he knew it, the documents were being thrust into his hand again, and he could only watch as Jack retreated out the door saying, "I'm moving your crap out of my house tomorrow. Your desk'll be outside my office." He raised a two-fingered salute, "Cheers, pumpkin." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so, Jack is the biggest drama queen and doesn't know how to deal with losing someone. Shit, I'm horrible


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Rhys got thrown away, and now he's dealing with it. Not that well really, but he's got bffs. Jack's pretending not to care but he toootally does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter has been updated due to some issues with the characters. Sorry about that, guys!

When the Rhys's doctor had arrived the next morning for his routine check up, she was surprised to find him bombarding her with a pleading request to be discharged early from the hospital. She had seemed reluctant at first from the look of his almost frenzied state, but still could not refuse a personal appeal from a patient. 

Thus, with an extensive inspection of his bodily conditions, Rhys was then moved into Vaughn's apartment under medical personnel supervision--as well as the occasional routine visits by his doctor. He had barely explained himself to Vaughn during the whole tedious ordeal of signing endless papers and leases--which he knew was not fair considering the other's almost stifling concern--but he was far too busy trying to ignore how his belongings were already in the guest bed room as Jack had promised, or how the absence of clutter and empty bottles of whiskey almost made him want to cry.  

He knew he was driving his friends insane. 

"I don't give a flipping shit how the fuck he feels right now, he hasn't left the apartment in three days!" 

"Fiona, he just lost his arm and his lover in the same week--of course he's--"

"Yeah, well Jack was an asshole anyway and his hairdo was stupid. Get out of my way!"

"I'm  _not_ moving. He doesn't need a friend shouting at him right now."

"A  _friend_ would make sure he's not moping over some bastard who's not even worth it!"

"C'mon, I'm begging you here... Just give him some space."

"He's had his three days. I'm going in."

"Fiona-- _Fiona_ , no!" 

Rhys remained silent and listened with detached interest at his friends' hushed argument outside the guest bedroom. He didn't even look up as the door burst open and the two sisters marched inside with frightening speed. Behind them trailed Vaughn, looking quite exasperated at their appearance.

There the company man stood, surrounded by a few unopened boxes and clothing piles. Rhys didn't really bring much with him when he moved into Jack's apartment--figured since the guy was so rich that he wouldn't need to. Instead of unpacking his belongings however, he was standing by the only window facing Pandora, looking apprehensive as he held his ECHOcomm idly in his hands.

"Rhys."

He didn't reply, and continued to fumble with the device in his hand, checking it constantly for new messages or missed calls. He was so sure he heard it beep or something... maybe if he waited a little longer it'd--

"Alright, that's enough."

The next thing he knew, the comm was swept out of his hand by Fiona, and tossed to Sasha.

"Oi!"

Ignoring the interjection, Fiona grasped him by the shirt and pulled him down to look her square in the eye. The other swallowed nervously, eyes flicking towards the comm in Sasha's hand, before yelping as Fiona growled at this, "Just fucking stop it, alright!"

"S-stop what?" If anything, it was her that needed to stop, Rhys thought. 

"This--this feeling sorry for yourself! It's been three fucking days of you balls deep in self-pity, and I'm not going to sit here and watch Jack give you hell."

At the mention of the other's name, Rhys shut his eyes tightly, feeling his chest constrict his breathing. 

"Fiona, just stop..." Vaughn tried to say.

"Hey. _Hey._  Look at me."

Rhys opened his eyes to match her gaze.

"Jack is gone. Okay? He's gone and he's not coming back," Fiona said definitively, eyes taking in Rhys's widening eyes and paling face, "So stop letting that asshole demean you like this. You're ten times--hell, a _thousand_ times more important than he will ever be. On top of all... _this._ " She paused sadly as she looked down at his limp sleeve, "You don't need it. Just forget about him." She released him, "Let us help you."

Rhys was grateful once she let him go, left hand reaching up the massage the growing pain in his back, "Sorry..."

She sighed before flicking him in the forehead, and reveling in his startled cry, "Don't be. You're just lucky it was me lecturing you and not Sasha." At this, the other sister winked at him from across the room, to which he rolled his eyes. 

But despite Fiona's forward and almost brutal method of getting Rhys to pull himself together, she and Sasha still remained at the apartment afterwards. Even Yvette and August dropped by constantly to just sit around, and use the television and fridge--much to Vaughn's annoyance. They either slept on the couch, or stole Vaughn's bed, forcing the accountant to snuggle in with Rhys during some crowded nights. 

And for a while, Rhys didn't even mention it. How he knew that they only stayed to ensure his safety--to be certain that he was still alive and wouldn't leave them again. There was really no need to say it, but he still noticed their extreme and overprotective gestures, and though unneeded and annoying at times, he appreciated their presence immensely. This bubble of familiarity kept him sane most days, and there wasn't a group of people he would rather spend it with than family. 

That is, until his medical leave finally ended. 

It was seven in the morning now and Rhys was pulling his striped blue shirt on (with difficulty due to his missing limb), not even bothering to reach for his black vest. He knew that it would only slip off his non-existent shoulder. But as he shucked on his pants and snatched his tie from the night stand, he frowned.

"Vaughn, help!"

Almost immediately, the other rushed in with a panic stricken face and half the cavalry behind him, looking equally alarmed. 

Trying to push down his grin, Rhys held up the red tie for them to see, "Tie." 

Everyone cussed him out, thinking the worst had happened, and Vaughn approached him to get the garment around his neck with a whispered, "I should just strangle you with this..."

As he later entered the kitchen to pour some coffee into his silver traveling cup, August walked in as well with a yawn, hair disheveled and stretching his long arms upwards. 

"You ever going to drink coffee like an adult, Rhys?" He wrinkled his nose as he saw the excess amount of creamer and sugar that Rhys stirred into his drink, before he was tugging open Vaughn's fridge to make some breakfast. 

"I know. I'm ashamed of it but," Rhys sealed the traveling coffee cup before raising it for the other to see, "No one will know, and plus this cup's silver and sexy." 

"Oi, you made a mess!"

Both turned to see Vaughn marching towards the company man, as he glared at the creamer scattered across the counter. 

"Sorry, cripple," Rhys announced, raising his hand, and the accountant ignored his comment, before grabbing for a wash towel. 

Fifteen minutes of kitchen drama later, Rhys and Vaughn were both out the door on their way to work when Sasha was calling after them. They looked at each other in confusion, before sticking their heads back into the apartment to see both sisters and August standing in the hallway. 

"You..." Sasha cleared her throat, ignoring the way her two companions were both smirking, "You be careful, alright? And I'm--ugh, okay--I'm sorry for what I said in the hospital. It was really... uncool and yeah, you didn't deserve it." For several awkward beats, Rhys only stared at her as she was uncharacteristically fidgeting on the spot. Suddenly, he set down his bag with a beam on his face, and advanced forward for a one-armed hug. The rest of their friends all cooed at them mockingly.

"Aww, she finally apologized!" 

"Took a lot of convincing, you know."

"Sasha's growing up!"

"Oh shut the fuck up, all of you!" Sasha growled, pushing Rhys away, unimpressed by his overjoyed face. They watched in amusement as she turned on her heel and headed back into the apartment with a huff. 

"That was so cute," said Vaughn fondly, and all of them nodded as they stared after their youngest friend.

* * *

"When are they leaving my house?" the shorter man grumbled as they both clambered into the elevator, pressing their designated floors, "I swear to god if I have to hear you guys whining about there being no toilet paper again I'm gonna have a freaking conniption."

"They'll be gone once they think I'm okay."

"Yeah, guess so," there was a brief pause, " _Are_ you okay though?"  _  
_

Rhys could only shrug, refusing to meet his friend in the eye, "Don't know. As okay as I'll ever be, honestly... and I can't just spend my days cooped up somewhere. It's been nearly a month and I still got a job to do."

Further conversation was stifled when the elevator doors opened to the accounting floor, signaling Vaughn's cue to leave. He turned back to say a quick, "Message me whenever!" Before he was gone.

Once alone, Rhys leaned back onto the railings behind him, closing his eyes, as he tried to ignore the rising dread that was pooling at his feet. The past few days in Vaughn's apartment had been a distraction, and there was no denying that their presence allowed him to forget, even for a moment, what had been eating away at his mind since meeting Jack in his hospital room--since this whole shit-fest happened, honestly.

How he was even going to pull off his job now that Jack had thrown him out, he didn't know. But what made him get up and show up for work was the idea that his friends were ultimately right.

He could mope about Jack all he wanted, but the fact of the matter was that there really would be no use. Jack didn't even deserve it. Had he even really cared to begin with? If he really had, then he wouldn't have been thrown out so easily.

Spending four undisturbed days with his friends was a strong reminder that this whole mess wasn't his fault. 

Even with all the pleasant and comforting memories he'd made, Rhys couldn't see how Jack cared about him anymore at this point, how he was quickly forgotten and thrown away when he had _just lost his bloody arm_. What Jack had done was selfish.

"I don't want to have to care about another shit-stain every again," he had said. As though Rhys should apologize for nearly dying. But, Rhys supposed, that was to be expected when people died left and right. At least now he knew who he could trust to be at his side no matter the circumstance. 

Didn't stop him from being hurt though. 

As he ascended through the space station, he paid no mind to the the way the security camera in the lift followed his every movement, how it focused on his face and scanned his condition, before zooming in to focus on his rear. Didn't notice the way that the elevator didn't stop on any of the other levels until it reached Jack's floor, and how, when he arrived outside Jack's office, his desk came with a new chair and a pen that might've cost half his pay roll.

Instead, when he sat down and placed his traveling mug and bag onto the desk beside him, he decided once and for all that he would give Fiona's words more thought. Jack was an asshole, she had said, and for once--perhaps in his whole time of knowing her--he agreed. 

Signaling his desktop open with his ECHOeye, Rhys sighed heavily, shuddering to think how this whole situation would unfold. 

Thankfully, it didn't seem like Jack was here yet. One glance at the red light on top of Jack's office doors across from him told Rhys that it was still locked--not a surprise. He came slightly early, after all. 

As the computer began to boot up, he began to list off his duties for the day, and formatting the emails he would be sending out to various division heads. He would also have to email Jack--sorry, _Handsome Jack_ \--that he was back and was ready to handle his schedules and calls again. Deep into planning, he barely noticed as the elevator dinged and opened up to reveal a tall man, talking angrily into his ECHOcomm in hushed tones. 

"Look, I don't even know the kid," the stranger said to his comm, looking quite peeved, "Why the hell do I have to find out how he's been eating, just ask him yourself." He paused to hear what the other person was saying, before shoving a hand through his hair and letting out a long sigh, " _Alright, alright_ , I got it. You're the bossman and I take orders from you, yes yes.  _Okay_." 

Rhys was scribbling down onto his notepad when he realized that someone had approached his desk.

"Hey."

The company man blinked, and raised his head, "Huh? Oh--Oh! Sorry, sorry, I didn't hear you come in. Are you here for Ja--Handsome Jack?" Well, in all honesty, he hadn't really expected someone to come in so early--these people usually came in at around noon to avoid the wrath of a grumpy CEO.

"Yes," the man replied breezily, hunching forward onto the desk as he searched wordlessly at Rhys's face. 

"Alright," the other pulled up a menu on his computer, "Name?"

"Axton."

"Axton--?"

"Just Axton."

"Right," Rhys mumbled, entering in the information to have the man's file pop-up and auto-fill the rest of the blank fields for him, along with the date and time, "He hasn't come in yet, but he's usually in by," he glanced down at the digital clock on his screen, and tried not to show how the time nearly made his heart leap in his chest, "around two minutes actually. Please take a seat, and he'll be with you shortly." 

He turned away to return to his notepad, when he realized that the visitor hadn't moved to sit down by the waiting area, and was instead still staring at him with almost painful concentration. For a moment, Rhys froze thinking that Axton was examining his empty shirt-sleeve, only to be confused when he saw that the other was focused at his face. 

"Um... is there something else I could help you with?" 

"Yeah, um. How..." Axton cleared his throat, and seemed to pause and look quite angry at himself as he scrunched up his eyebrows in annoyance, "How have you been eating lately?" 

Silence, then, "Um... Fine?" Rhys replied looking quite perturbed, tone distrustful. 

"Good," the strange man conceded, moving away from the desk, "That's um--that's good." 

He turned away to sit down on one of the chairs nearby, looking quite comical due to how tall he was, and Rhys stared after him with bewilderment, unsure of what the hell just happened. 

With a start, he remembered that he had to format Jack's schedule before the other arrived, and he scrambled to open up his emails to note down all of the meetings marked for today. Unbeknownst to him, the stranger was whispering hastily into his ECHOcomm, mumbling, "I already asked him, stop it-- _What?_  You want to know exactly what he's been eating? For Christ's sake man, I looked like such a freak--"

The elevator doors dinged again, and this time, Rhys looked up to watch as his former boyfriend strolled out, ending a call on his own ECHOcomm as he shoved it back into his pocket. He barely spared Rhys a glance.  

"Oh hey cupcake, I see you've met Mr. Cripple here," Jack said, addressing Axton.

Axton growled at him, "Oh don't even try to pretend that you weren't--"

" _Office_ , Axton," Jack quipped firmly, walking past the taller man to enter his office as the large metal doors slid open for him. The other just sighed, aggravated, before turning to follow after him with the doors closing in his wake. 

Rhys sat in silence, eyes unblinking as he stared at the empty space where the two once were.

 _Mr. Cripple_ , Jack had said. 

Saying it himself was one thing. But Jack? 

Before he knew it, he was struggling to get his ECHOcomm out of his bag and was soon fumbling with the many buttons. Hitting Vaughn's contact number, he tried to control his breathing as he watched the icon of his friend's face flash on the screen.

There was a soft click and, "Rhys? What's going on?"

He inhaled deeply, heart pounding, ignoring the pinprick of tears threatening to fall. 

"Rhys? You're kinda worrying me here," Vaughn's voice continued in the small speaker. 

But despite the panicked tone that he expected to strain his voice, Rhys's found himself oddly quiet, his throat filling with intense anger.

"Vaughn. I'm getting that prosthetic arm." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I have to apologize for the absence of updates this week, I've been working non-stop to make sure my grades stay up. But hey, Rhys's getting an arm, and we're all going to be fierce and happy.
> 
> Also um... anyone want to beta or co-write? I've never done that before, and I'm somewhat curious on how that works.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's reflects, Rhys gets his new arm, they both make out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Chosha for reviewing my characterizations :)! 
> 
> This chapter is kinda longer than the others because I can't believe how long this took to write.

Has Jack ever told you that Rhys was an absolute fucking nerd?

His looks and constructed confidence were mostly misleading ‘cause he was a straight-up dork if Jack ever saw one. Possibly even more so than that accountant friend of his.

Rhys would often stay up some nights, curled up in the bed with Jack, reading some nerdy comic book called  _the Chamber of Vaults_  or something stupid like that. And for some reason the CEO would always wake up to Rhys holding the book under his chin, giggling to himself with that small grin he always gets when he reads something he likes.

And Jack would make fun of him for it, calling him funny names as he turns red in that cute way he does, crying out, "Oh for God's sakes I thought you were asleep!" Then, he'd ignore the other's unapologetic wink, before turning down the lights to snuggle back in the covers. And Jack would just stare at him and pretend that he wasn't smiling.

It was times like these that Jack would wonder why he'd even let that kid into his life.

Sometimes he'd think about how Rhys would stumble into the kitchen in the early morning, hair mushed and eyes heavy with sleep. He would remember how he would wake up to the other making coffee or leaving the bathroom with his hair standing in all directions. And he'd try to tell himself that his apartment didn’t feel empty and that his bed wasn't a lot bigger than he remembered.

But when this train of thought would begin, Jack would always remind himself of Angel. Of his wife. He'd think about their faces as he watched them die by the hands of another, and how no amount of revenge satisfied that loss.

So when these memories of Rhys in his stupid striped pajamas or Rhys fully dressed in his nice blue suit--or even just Rhys in general, surfaced in his mind, he'd remember what it felt like to drag his limp body up to Helios and watch again as he could do nothing to prevent the color draining Rhys's face.

And so here he was, watching closely at the live security feed showing the company man getting a prosthetic socket attached. 

Rhys was clearly unconscious if his limp body was any indication. His chest rose and fell slowly with his relaxed breathing, his face slack and unmoving from whatever drugs that put him under. Jack couldn't see clearly from where the camera was positioned, but he saw several doctors working at his PA’s right shoulder with metal tools and screws, attaching wires with small tweezer-like instruments. 

He let his gaze linger for several long seconds at Rhys's motionless figure, strapped down to the surgery table lest he gain consciousness, before turning away to tap at the buttons on his keyboard. 

With a ping, a small window popped up at the top left corner of his screen where the video feed was showing.

_Calling CommandoCool59... calling CommandoCool59..._

There was a murmur of static that sounded from his speakers and he waited patiently as a disgruntled voice grumbled out.

" _What?_ " 

"Need you to check up on Rhys after the surgery."

"What?"

"I said, go down and pay him a visit." 

"It's three in the fucking morning."

"I don't give a shit, champ. I'm already paying you double than the rest of these ass-monkeys."

There was a brief disjointed pause where Jack listened to Axton indiscreetly cursing under his breath.

"Fine. When does it end?"

"When does what end?"

"The fucking  _surgery_." 

"Oi, watch your tone.” He paused, “It ends at five."

“AM?”

“Yeah.”

“Great, great. Okay, bye.”

“Wait, wait, where are you going?”

“To sleep? I have two hours.”

“Nononono, you got an hour and thirty. Need you up here bright and early before you go.”

“What, why?” Jack tried to ignore his own grin from the slight whine in Axton’s voice.

“Don’t ask so many questions, hun. I just need you to deliver a small suitcase to the doctors. That’s it.”

“A suitcase of?”

“Doesn’t matter. Look, are you doing this or not?”

"… 'Kay. Yeah, I’m in. But you're upping my wage to triple the amount."

Axton hung up, before Jack could object—not that he would have made any big interjections anyway. Money was never an issue when it came to Hyperion.

Instead, as silence filled the room again, he sat back on his chair, muttering "fucking dickface" under his breath.

His eyes glazed over as he stared blankly at the small digital clock perched on his desk. Rhys had given it to him as a present at one point two years ago, insisting that he remained mindful of the time at all costs—and rightfully so.

After all, Jack wasn’t the CEO for no reason. He kept Hyperion’s reputation through the many hard hours he spent just working away on his computer (excluding the fact that he murdered the previous CEO with his pocket watch). And as a result, he’d often stumble back into his large apartment during odd hours of the day, getting very little sleep before hauling himself up for coffee.

And now, he could barely even manage his time as the clock blinked away to signal that it was already quarter-past three in the morning.

If Rhys were here, he’d have already mercilessly dragged Jack away from his chair and shoved him into the nearest bed as though he were a man possessed.  _No, on second thought_ , Jack thought, Rhys would have already made sure that Jack didn’t even stay in the office past eleven to warrant such abuse. If he were being honest, Jack would even say he missed the constant concern.

Not to mention cuddling the hell out of him.

Sighing, he stood straighter to continue watching the security feed, grabbing for his coffee mug, only to inwardly curse as he found it empty.

Half inclined to just hurl it across the room in frustration, he paused as an idea popped into his head. Without thinking, Jack opened up another call window on his computer.

Like Axton's, the call flickered for several moments before the receiver picked up at the other end after three rings.

Jack leaned back on his seat, running a hand through his hair as he listened to the static. 

"If I said I wanted you up here on Helios within a few hours, how fast could you jump into a space shuttle?"  

* * *

 

_Where the hell were they?_

Rhys had nearly demolished his hospital room in search for his favorite pair of socks. When he had told Vaughn he wanted a new arm, his whole gang of friends--god bless them--greeted him at the apartment later that day with a bag of clothes already packed for his stay in the medical sector.

And now he was about to revoke his premature gratitude when he couldn't even find his sodding lucky pair. He'd hardly unpacked since moving in nearly a week ago, how hard was it for them to pack the one pair he always wore for any emotional event?  

"Look, I can go back and get it if you're that upset," Vaughn said in resignation, watching for the second time as Rhys grumbled to himself from his seat on the bed. 

"No, it's cool," Rhys replied petulantly, mouth turned down in a pout.

"Is it?"

"Yeah." He said evasively, missing how he could previously cross his arms and turn away when he wanted to guilt-trip his friend. 

But then again, he wouldn't have to wait that long anymore to be able to do that again. 

Rhys glanced back down to examine the shoulder socket attached to his right. It was an obnoxious Hyperion yellow, contrasting strikingly against the tender and bruised flesh around the contraption. The doctors had yet to give him his prosthetic arm, as they feared that his shoulder would be too delicate for the attachment--and by the constant soreness of his raw flesh, Rhys could only agree. 

"It looks fucking cool--well, in a cyborg kind of way." Vaughn had sauntered over to his side at this point in an attempt to win back his favor through compliments. Which Rhys was  _not_  falling for, "Kinda wish I could be part cyborg."

"Sure, how would you like your limbs crushed? By bombing or brute force?"

Realizing his mistake, his friend winced slightly before sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, "Uh... sorry. I didn't mean it that way."

"Right." Rhys said snappishly, turning away to glare at the wall. Vaughn only sighed.

Rhys had been... grumpy after the surgery. Perhaps it was due to being completely knocked out under several drugs for hours, or maybe it was the fact that he awoke to disjointed colors around his vision, unable to register anything around him. Either way, his mood had been a complete shit-show for a while now.

His friends had even watched his high with a mixture of concern and great amusement, going as far as to secretly videotape the moment with Vaughn's ECHOcomm. Not that they didn't tell him right after anyway 'cause they suck at keep anything a secret from him. He'd watched all thirteen minutes of him moaning about on his bed, mumbling about space cowboys and Pandoran unicorns. 

"Rhys?"

" _What?_ " He didn't bother keeping the annoyance out of his voice.

Like a trooper though, Vaughn understandingly said nothing about it. Instead, he was looking at the small control pad attached to the PA's bed with slight confusion, "Someone wants to be buzzed into your room."

Probably Fiona or Yvette (they were in and out like mother-hens throughout the day), "Well, let them in then."

"Um, he looks like trouble though."

He? Rhys reluctantly looked over at the small screen that showed the outside of the room and found himself staring at a familiar face.

"Axton?"

"Oh, you know him?" the other blinked, looked slightly putout by the scars and gruff appearance of the visitor.

"Yeah, he works for Jack I think," he replied, bringing his eyes closer to inspect Axton with some wariness, "Should I let him in?"

"Uh, I don't know bro, you're the one who's friends with him."

"You guys know I can hear you, right?" Both nerds jumped at the low voice that sounded from the control panel speakers, "You didn't turn off the mic, did you?"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Rhys babbled, pressing the button to unlock the hospital door, "Come in!"

Axton strolled in confidently despite his tired appearance, hand holding a small suitcase in his hand as he arched a brow towards the other two.

"'Sup."

"H-hey." Rhys winced at how his voice cracked, trying to pull the covers up to hide his embarrassing hospital gown. Axton tried to hide his grin at the other's unease before he turned to Vaughn.

"Hey, you're--?"

The shorter man looked confused at being addressed, "Um. Vaughn." 

"Right. Vaughn. Could you do me a favor, Vaughn?" 

"... Sure?" 

"Could you deliver this case to the doctor's office for me? I’m delivering it for another person and I don't really know my way around this sector," he raised the hand holding the suitcase expectantly, some muscles in his arm flexing slightly at the movement. Rhys tried not to watch. 

"Oh. Okay, I guess." Vaughn took it in his hands, before looking back at Rhys in concern for a brief moment, and heading out the door, "Be right back."

And they were alone.

The company man tried very hard not to think  _stranger danger_. 

"Oh, c'mon I can't be that scary, can I?" 

Clearing his throat as nonchalantly as he could, Rhys began, "Uh... well I'm just kinda confused. What are you doing here?"

At this, he received discomfort as a response, and he could only watch dumbly as Axton seemed to grow pensive, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. The merc's confidence seemed to disappear to be replaced by unease as he tried to formulate a reply. 

"I was just... checking up on you, I guess."

He felt his eyes narrow, "Jack sent you?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Axton gave a small laugh, sending relief through Rhys, "Just curious. You're uh--you're pretty much known for being Jack's PA. Was just wondering what made you quit your job for almost two months." 

Rhys, not noticing the small fib, visibly sagged at the other's words, "Yeah, well... things got a little out of hand." He paused, "Pun not intended." 

To his surprise, Axton politely didn't laugh and instead moved closer to the bed. The company man tried very hard not to look too closely, "Are you doing okay?"

"Yes? I mean, I think I'm okay." 

"Oh. Right. Good."

Silence. Both were looking away to stare at opposite walls, feeling uncomfortable.

Then, at the same time as Axton started "I guess I should go--", Rhys blurted "I'm eating okay." 

His visitor blinked at him.

"Yeah, I uh--I've been eating well. My friends have been taking care of me. They make sure I eat enough. I mean, my friend Sasha cooks really well and she sends her boyfriend, uh, August, to give it to me. Or just Vaughn--you met him just now haha. And Yvette and Fiona are kinda like older sisters so they make sure I'm always good before the day ends. They're my friends too by the way." Rhys tried and failed not to wince as he prattled on, unable to stand the silence, "Um, yeah."  _Why am I so awkward._

Axton actually smiled though (genuinely too if Rhys actually looked at him), "Thank God. Those are some great friends you have. Seems like... you're in good company."

Despite himself, Rhys felt himself smile back at the kind words, "Yeah. They mostly are."

They stared at each other.

And they would have stayed like that too, had Vaughn not rushed in eagerly with a doctor in tow, carrying a long cardboard box along with her.

Seeming to forget that they had a visitor, Vaughn gushed out breathlessly, "The arm looks awesome! It's amazing,  _oh my god_ , Hyperion tech--I can't believe how  _sexy_  it looks bro!"

Axton coughed and mumbled under his breath with a hand in his hair, "Yeah, I'll--um--go. Bye."

He left with a parting wave, leaving Rhys to look after him in confusion, because  _what the hell_  except he couldn't finish his train of thought because his best bro blocked his vision with his far-too enthusiastic body, "Look, look, look!"

Rolling his eyes, the PA shook his head away from the memories of whatever the hell just happened right then, and looked over to the doctor smiling patiently at him.

"I'm ready to get it attached now? I thought my shoulder was too banged up still."

"Well, it's kinda early to do it, but it should be nothing you can't handle. The soreness with it attached won't be any different from how it feels right now," she explained slowly, "Do you  _feel_  ready?" 

"Yeah," he couldn't keep the sudden breathlessness from his voice, "Ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

"Okay, well we can actually do this now. Everything you need to attach it is already in the socket, I just need to align everything." She moved away to place the box on the foot of his bed, opening it with meticulous hands as his friend bounced up and down on his heels like a child opening a Christmas present.

Christ, it was as though it were Vaughn getting the arm.

When she pulled it out, Rhys found himself staring in awe at the yellow contraption.

God, it  _was_  sexy. 

"Shit bro-- _shit bro_." 

The unneeded commentary aside, Rhys pulled down the covers to his waist, sitting up to allow the doctor to move closer to him with the [arm](http://41.media.tumblr.com/3f7e166ebd332cfa9bfb28c26db182c4/tumblr_nsx9rqGGPx1u0p5ato1_r1_500.png) held carefully in her hands. 

"Here we go." 

Rhys swallowed as she put the pieces together, sharing a glance with Vaughn as the latches around his socket automatically began to click and turn. They whirred to life as they secured the new arm to his shoulder, "Hang on a moment, please."

He watched as she fumbled with something under his triceps, searching for some sort of panel, and he waited restlessly as she groped at several places that tickled. Then with a small  _ping_ , a blue light from his hand lit up, and he found himself shifting awkwardly  _with_  his arm. 

"Oh my god," he breathed as the lady moved away to let him raise his hand and play around with the fingers, forming fists, and imaginary finger guns. He pointed one at Vaughn who held onto his heart dramatically. 

"I wish everyone was here to see this,” the other stated in admiration.

Rhys could only agree, "No kidding. This is _awesome_." He examined it closely now, noticing the combination of black and yellow metal that showcased Hyperion's colors. The pauldron of the arm that shaped his new shoulder circled around his biceps to cover the small panel the doctor was fumbling with before. And with delight, he noticed that like his palm, his forearm also had a small trapezoidal screen that signaled the battery life in the same blue light as his ECHOeye, "I don't even want to think about how much it's going to cost." 

"Oh, it's already been paid."

Rhys blinked at the doctor, “What?”

“Just now, this young gentleman,” she looked towards Vaughn, “brought in a suitcase with the money. It covered all the costs.”

He cast a doubtful eye towards the shorter man who shook his head bewilderment. Axton said he’d only been delivering for another person, so who…

"Who..." he cleared his throat, already guessing the name as he played with the hard metal plating of his prosthetic arm, "Who was the suitcase from?"

She regarded him kindly for a moment, before she ushered him to lie down, "Handsome Jack, of course."

* * *

 

"Jack!"

The name came out as a bark, and though unintentional, Rhys simply rolled with it as he now marched into his boss’s office, chest puffed out and pace brisk.

The CEO turned from his position by the grand window, apparently gazing out at Elpis before the interruption. Why wouldn’t he look at Rhys?

“Oh, cupcake. I see you got yourself a spiffy new arm. Good for you.” If he expected his sarcastic tone to be deflective, he had another thing coming.

“Nice try, jackass,” Rhys ignored the way the other’s eyebrows shot up at his sudden crass and abrasive attitude, “But you paid for my surgery and my hospital bills, didn't you? Why?”

For a moment that other stared at him, raising an overwhelming apprehension in Rhys that he dutifully squashed in favor of remaining angry. Right. He had a reason to be here.

After learning about Jack paying for him some hours ago, Rhys had quickly worked through the small practices and information that the doctors and mechanics had to give him about his arm. Shortly after, he was already shrugging on his uniform without a care about Vaughn’s worried questions.

Before he knew it, he was speeding towards Jack’s office, his mind set on finally figuring this shit out for good.

“Yeah. This is cute and all, but I don’t really know what you’re going on about here Rhysie, so if you mind not wasting my time...” He was already turning back to face the window in dismissal.

“No.”

The CEO paused in his movements to fix Rhys with a withering glare, “Sorry?”

“I know you still care about me. There’s—there’s no way you don’t.” The PA just continued to voice his thoughts, knowing that Jack opted for being a dick as a means of self-preservation whenever a situation was miscalculated or not to his favor, “I heard from the doctors that you covered all the costs. Why? You still care? Are you guilty? Did you actually  _forget_  the two years we spent together? Tell me straight here because I want— _need_  to know.”

As the company man anticipated, Jack’s stance became defensive at his accusations; his presence adopted a threatening aura, typically reserved for murder and violence.

He tried his best to stand his ground as the other walked forward now with equal conviction, face hard, “You wanna try running that by me again, sugar? Do you  _know_  who you’re talking to?”

He was in front of Rhys now, large hands coming up to grasp him tightly by the shoulders in a firm, dangerous grip—a grip that used to be welcoming, inviting even. Now it was just frightening.

“Maybe you need a reminder? A little wake-up call to help you remember what happens to small fries that talk big?” His palms circled Rhys’s neck in threat, the pads of his fingers tracing the delicate skin there.

Sure, there was fear.

Rhys felt it curl in his chest and simmer unbearably until he had to restrain himself from flinching away.

But his eyes never wavered, never submitted, “Then do it.”

At this, Jack actually seemed to pause, his face echoing the confused question that his voice wouldn’t.

“Kill me if you want,” said Rhys, not knowing where this sudden influx of confidence stemmed from, “Strangle me. I’m a liability right? Do it. At least then I’ll have my answer.”

For half a beat, the fingers actually squeezed tighter around his throat, jarring his heart to the pit of his stomach. Maybe for a split second he felt his breath stutter as his body began to acknowledge the danger he had unwittingly put himself into.

Then, as quickly as they constricted, Jack’s fingers released him, shoving him away as the CEO moved to stand by his desk.

“Get the fuck out.”

“Jack—“

“ _Get the fuck out!_ ” Jack turned away at this point, voice echoing sharply in the chamber-like office, only to continue in a quieter tone, “I have a meeting with someone in ten minutes, I don’t have the fucking time to—“

“I know,” Rhys cuts in, “I handle your schedules remember? Or did you also forget that?”

“Do you even understand what you asked me to do?”

Rhys blinked, “What?”

“Just now you—you think I can fucking  _kill_  you? After all that—all that bullshit about dumping you in that nerd’s place, you come here expecting me to be able to—“

“Well, it shouldn’t be hard, right?” All the anger he had swallowed back came rushing out in a single burst, “Just a simple squeeze on the neck and we’re home free. You can continue to be that big bad CEO that gets affected by nothing, and I get to be that  _cripple_  who gets tossed in the trash heap of bodies you laugh about and post on your fucking instagram. What the hell  _should_  I be expecting?”

Jack was silent at that.

Rhys just sighed.

“Look I just want the truth.” He looked down at his new robotic hand, voice soft but steady. “There’s got to be something more here—something salvageable. There’s no way it’s ending here, it just can’t.” Rhys looked up, “So, why? You can’t just pay for all my shit and expect me not to get hopeful here, Jack.”

Rhys approached him now, gaze glowing and shoes squeaking loudly on the marble floor. Without thinking, both hands had come up to grasp Jack by the lapels, drawing the other closer, “Why did you do it?”

For a moment he forgot what he was even asking for. If it was about paying for his expenses or dumping him—or even just throwing Rhys out of his life.

Yet it seemed not to matter as Jack stared back at him with fire in his eyes, his demeanor shifting from menacing to something a lot heavier and less controlled.

Muscles shifted in his face as his jaw clenched, smashing his molars together in some sort of contemplation that Rhys couldn’t comprehend.

Suddenly, a hand grasped the back of his neck, his only warning being Jack’s eyes narrowing a fraction of a centimeter as he huffed out under his breath.

“Fuck it.”

And then, Jack was kissing him. Hard. The initial shock of the CEO’S onslaught left him motionless for several tense beats as the other merely turned his head to the side to deepen their married mouths. But after regaining his senses, he pushed at the solid shoulders, managing only a breathless, “W-Wait—“ before he was pulled in again with something that sounded like “shut up” against his lips.

Though they were of the same height, Jack was broader and heavier built than Rhys, which made it harder to pry him away when a large hand circled around his hip in a bruising grip. Like this, Rhys was somewhat bent backwards by the waist, carrying part of Jack’s weight on his lower back.

He felt the pull of arousal as his body recognized whom it was he was kissing, dragging nearly all thought down the drain as his mind reasoned that,  _this feels good, why stop_  and  _you miss him you miss him, let it happen._

But his dignity still put up a fight.

When Jack turned him around to be pressed back on the desk, Rhys’s hands shot out to hold at Jack’s biceps, whining slightly as the edge dug onto his lower back, “Wait. I said  _wait_.”

“What?”

“What do you mean what? What the hell are we doing?”

Jack didn't answer him and just met his gaze with intensity, lips looking as though it were starting to bruise.

"You don't want to?"

"I--what do you--" Rhys's words hiccupped as he flushed in anger, "Of course I want to! But this isn't fucking fair!"

He tried to push down the sting of tears that began in his eyes, not wanting to cry in front of Jack and show weakness, but he still felt his voice crack as he ignored the way Jack looked at him as though he were breaking, "I can't deal with it if you throw me out after this! I can’t do that again."

Jack was frowning again, and Rhys hated how he could easily read the worry and the guilt on the other's face, but had to ignore it because it just couldn't be, Jack could never be any of those. 

The CEO leaned in again, slowly this time, eyes moving up and down Rhys's quivering form, "I'm sorry."

He froze, eyes widening as though he couldn't believe it, because did Jack actually say what he thought he did--there was no way that he could  _possibly_ \--

Jack didn't explain himself, and instead kissed him again softly, hands losing their harsh and demanding grip, and instead rubbing slow circles against his sides. Rhys let himself be taken away, floating carelessly in the other’s hands as his own eyes began to drift close from how  _right_  it all felt. 

He was suddenly being tilted back again onto the desk, more weight pressing him closer as the kiss deepened and he squirmed, pressing his thighs together to ignore that feeling of arousal curling in his gut. It began to stir and warm his body, expanding through his limbs like waves of molten lava. 

The other pulled away briefly to peck around his mouth, saying in a low voice, "The arm looks  _really good_ , sweetheart. Can't believe how hot you look with it." 

His heart leapt.

Suddenly he was staring up at Jack from his now lying position on the desk as the purple shade of Elpis illuminated Jack's face in the dark office, making him look almost ethereal. The same hetocromatic eyes that would look at him fondly before were looking him up and down now again with some sort of ferocity, and he failed to hide a shudder of excitement at it all. 

In retrospect, he should have slapped himself in the face for being so fucking stupid. 

"Huh."

He felt himself freeze at the new voice, confusing Jack until both looked over to the entrance of the office. 

The click-clack of heels could be heard against Jack's floor; only now did Rhys recognize the gush of air that flurried around the opening metal doors, giving way to a woman brandishing a pistol on her hip holster.

She whistled as Rhys blinked rapidly to see her cocking her head to the side, watching the display with amusement.

"Radio-silence for over two years, and you call me up here after all this time to watch you fuck someone else? God, Jackie, I'm almost flattered."  

 

 

"Nisha." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how it is. :(
> 
> Happy New Years by the way!
> 
> Also, I realized that most of the writers in the Borderlands fandom know each other, so um, anyone want to talk to me? Haha agh, please, y'all are so cool, I'm dying.


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